


on the anatomy of crushes

by carafin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Medical, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carafin/pseuds/carafin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A part-by-part dissection of their relationship. Medical school AU.</p><blockquote>
  <p>‘See you tomorrow?’ Hanamaki asks. He’s still smiling faintly, still carrying about his usual air of quiet self-assurance, but there’s no mistaking the hopefulness in his voice. ‘On the bus, I mean.’</p>
  <p>‘Yeah,’ Matsukawa says, and tries not to make it sound too much like a promise. ‘See you tomorrow.’</p>
  <p> <br/>(Falling in love is really, ridiculously easy.)</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	on the anatomy of crushes

**Author's Note:**

> this is best read as a series of individual vignettes and not a wholesome, continuous, chronological piece, mostly because i am 1. bad at transitions and 2. weak
> 
> so many tropes guys, so many tropes

**quite the eye-opener**

 

The upside to staying at home rather than the university’s dormitory is that Matsukawa is spared the horrors of communal showers (honestly, he’s heard _stories_ ), inconsiderate roommates, and awful cafeteria food. The downside is the hour-long bus ride it takes to get to school, because Tokyo’s rush-hour traffic is truly a force to be reckoned with. That, and the fact that he has to wedge himself between throngs of other commuters, consisting mostly surly looking school-goers and middle aged men and women on their way to work.

For this reason, Oikawa - who’s Matsukawa’s good friend in medical school - has repeatedly offered to give him free rides to school and Matsukawa has, without fail, declined every single time. Upon further questioning, Matsukawa would always say something along the lines of ‘I don’t want to trouble you’, which would earn him an incredulous look from Oikawa, followed by ‘if you _really_ want to be more considerate, stop leeching off my damn notes all the time’. This would be followed by a mostly-friendly shove or two, and then Matsukawa would try to quickly steer the conversation towards another topic, away from dangerous territories.

The truth to this strange phenomena is: well, maybe Matsukawa _is_ actually that considerate. Maybe he _likes_ squeezing through the morning crowd and immersing himself amidst body odour and morning breath. And maybe - this is just a very minute, very miniscule probability, definitely way down the list - Matsukawa’s just looking out for the cute guy who always boards the bus two stops after him. His name is Hanamaki, and he goes to the same school as Matsukawa; it's one of those I-recognise-you-by-sight-even-if-we've-never-spoken-before sort of awkward territory they're navigating, mostly by virtue of the large size of their class.

(Not that Matsukawa’s looking out for him each morning, nope, he isn’t a _serial stalker_ or anything. It’s just - it’s not easy ignoring someone when their hair is - when their smile - when they look like _that_.)

So anyway, Thursday morning and Matsukawa’s wedged between an office lady who is hellbent on stabbing him with her elbow once every three seconds and a nasty-looking pubescent kid who smells like he’s recently crawled out from the sewer. His deplorable situation becomes slightly more bearable when, two stops later, Hanamaki shuffles up the steps and plants himself next to a pole at the other end of the bus. Hanamaki looks more haggard looking than usual, Matsukawa notes, probably in light of the Physiology exam they’re about to have later in the day; he seems to have ditched his well-groomed appearance in favour of looking like - well, looking like a medical student; his hair appears uncombed, his shirt is crummy, and his eyebags are so huge they might actually have developed sentience.

The next time Matsukawa casually brings his gaze over to Hanamaki’s direction - that is to say, two seconds later - the other boy’s eyes are shut. Matsukawa’s first thought is that Hanamaki's just closing his eyes for a quick rest, but a second later his lips part slightly and his head droops forward and - did the guy just fall asleep while standing on a moving bus?

After five minutes of unabashed staring, Matsukawa arrives at the conclusion that yes, Hanamaki  _has_ fallen asleep _while standing up_. In a mind-boggling display of his snoozing skills, Hanamaki goes on to spend the rest of the bus ride in a blissful slumber, waking up (or sleepwalking, Matsukawa honestly can't tell) every now and then to shuffle obediently and make way for other commuters boarding the bus. 

By the time the bus pulls into their university's bus stop one hour later, Hanamaki _still_ hasn’t woken up. As the vehicle grinds to a halt, Matsukawa starts to ponder over his options - leave Hanamaki be? Try to wake Hanamaki up and risk missing the stop because the bus is so crowded and he’s going to have to push his way through the commuters to get to Hanamaki?

‘Hey - don’t close the doors -’ Matsukawa starts to shout, but between the chattering crowd and the sound of the bus engine, the driver doesn’t hear him. With literally seconds left to spare, Matsukawa shoves his way through the crowd to the other end of the bus while apologising profusely, shakes Hanamaki till the other boy snaps his eyes open in alarm, and half-leads, half-drags him down the bus.

'Oh,' Hanamaki says, when they've made their way safely down the bus. He looks visibly flustered. 'This - just now-'

‘I’m sorry,’ Matsukawa tells him. ‘You were sleeping and the bus was going to drive away and -’

Hanamaki cuts him halfway. ‘Nah, don’t apologise, I ought to thank you instead,’ he says. ‘Otherwise I would’ve totally missed the stop and skipped the - _wait, hold on_ -’ Hanamaki drops his gaze to his wristwatch, his expression slowly seizing up in a sort of frenzied horror.

‘The exam,' Hanamaki says, looking up. 'It's starting in three minutes -’

They start to sprint like demons possessed.

 

 

**i’ve got a gut feeling about us**

 

Matsukawa’s sitting at the benches next to his lecture hall, waiting for a certain Oikawa Tooru (who's probably off entertaining his fans somewhere), when someone drops a bakery bag - its contents still warm - unceremoniously onto his lap.

Matsukawa looks up to see Hanamaki grinning at him.

‘Profiteroles from my favourite bakery,’ Hanamaki says. His face is turned away from the sun, his body casting a long shadow across the bench, but the smile on his face is no less bright. Matsukawa brings his hand up to shield his eyes. ‘For this morning.’

In a distant part of his brain not going _face face face hair hair hair_ Matsukawa briefly registers that it’s his cue to say something in response.

‘Oh,’ Matsukawa says, and blinks. ‘It wasn’t a big deal - but thanks anyway -’

‘See you tomorrow?’ Hanamaki asks. He’s still smiling faintly, still carrying about his usual air of quiet self-assurance, but there’s no mistaking the hopefulness in his voice. ‘On the bus, I mean.’

‘Yeah,’ Matsukawa says, and tries not to make it sound too much like a promise. ‘See you tomorrow.’

 

(Falling in love is really, ridiculously easy.)

 

 

 **foot in mouth**  

 

‘I’m more of an evening person,’ Hanamaki confesses to Matsukawa on their way to school one day, two weeks into their going-to-school-together regime. ‘I hate waking up early in the morning. I’d go to class wheeled in my bed, if I could.’

‘I used to hate mornings, too,’ Matsukawa tells Hanamaki without thinking. ‘Until recently.’

It takes a slight pause, and Hanamaki turning to look at him, for Matsukawa to fully register what just happened.

‘...and mornings are great because, like, seize the day, you know?’ Matsukawa’s mouth appears to have set itself on autopilot, spewing out sentences reminiscent of a terribly written self-help book. ‘Plus if your morning starts off well it sets the tone for your day, which is great, and even if everything is shitty you can always look forward to breakfast… I always have… pancakes...’ Matsukawa trails off. Contemplates throwing himself in front of a vehicle the moment they step down the bus.

‘Right,’ Hanamaki says, and drops the subject (possibly out of acute secondhand embarrassment), but the expression on his face makes him look like he’s trying not to appear too pleased. Like he knows what Matsukawa _really_ means.

 

 

**at the back of my hand**

 

Going to school together turns into going home together turns into ‘hey, wanna come study at my house this Friday?’ It becomes a ritual: taking the ridiculously long bus ride to school and back home, studying together in the public library, at the cafe next to the bus stop, in each other’s houses.

This is how Matsukawa learns that Hanamaki can eat an entire bakery’s worth of profiterole if given the chance; that he used to be the arm-wrestling champion back in his old school; that he’s deathly afraid of getting tickled. Learns that for all his outwardly sort-of cool demeanor, he’s actually a giant nerd at heart, for instance:

‘Really, Hanamaki? You need _seven_ different colours of highlighters to write _one_ set of notes?’, and:

‘Why do you know more gram negative rods than the names of past presidents?’, and:

‘I swear, Hanamaki, it isn’t healthy for a twenty-year-old guy to have a _favourite_ _prion_  -’

Mostly, though - it’s a good time.

 

(And this is how Matsukawa lets himself fall a little more each day; this is how he surrenders himself to the capturing spiral.)

 

 

**a nasty case of the whip...lash**

 

‘Mattsun and I met on the bus,’ Hanamaki tells Oikawa when they finally meet for the first time, after Matsukawa decides to bite the bullet and do the awkward introduce-my-good-friends-to-each-other thing in accordance with social niceties. ‘We take the same bus to school every morning.’

Oikawa’s eyes take on a strange gleam; Matsukawa can practically _hear_ the cogs turning in his head.

‘The same bus every morning,’ Oikawa says, in a mild voice. He turns to Matsukawa - who quickly averts his eyes - and smiles brightly. ‘Is that _so_ , Matsukawa?’

Matsukawa gives Oikawa something between a smile and a pained grimace; Oikawa doesn’t say anything more then, but Matsukawa knows that that’s probably not going to be the end of it. Unsurprisingly, he receives a string of texts from Oikawa that evening.

 

 **From: Oikawa  
** i’d offer u a ride to school, but i feel like you’d prefer taking the bus. what do u think?

 **To: Oikawa  
** don’t be a dipshit oikawa

 **From: Oikawa  
** i’m writing an open letter to the ministry of transport tomorrow

 **From: Oikawa  
** why bother encouraging people to take public transport by raising car and parking prices

 **From: Oikawa  
** when u can just plant a cute guy in each bus lol

 

 

**nothing like hands-on learning**

 

The thing about medical school is that seeing naked or half-naked bodies around becomes the norm; rumour has it that some of the girls have taken to practicing breast examinations on each other, although for the most part Matsukawa _really_ doesn’t want to know. Anyway, the point is that learning about anatomy is a lot more effective when you have a functional, living model in front of you.

Like, a _lot_ more.

‘No, this isn't how you locate the anterior superior iliac spine,’ Hanamaki says, as they’re preparing for the next day’s anatomy quiz in Matsukawa’s bedroom. He reaches out to grab Matsukawa’s hand, and brings it to a bony prominence jutting out from his hips.

‘ _This_ is how you find the landmark,' He says, pressing Matsukawa's fingers against his hipbone. 'And then when you draw a line from here to the belly button you can locate McBurney’s point.’ He tightens his grip on Matsukawa's fingers, bringing it closer to a spot near his navel. 'See? Right here.'

‘ _Oh_ ,’ Matsukawa says, not trusting himself to say anything more. His mouth is dry and his throat seems to have clamped shut. ‘Okay, right.’

'Great!' Hanamaki says, and drops Matsukawa's hands, much to the latter's unspoken regret.

‘And our next body landmark,’ Hanamaki continues, turning to look at the Grey’s Anatomy textbook cracked open on Matsukawa’s desk, blissfully oblivious as to Matsukawa’s impending aneurysm, ‘is the _pubic tubercle_.’ 

 

(For the first time in his entire university career, Matsukawa tops his class for an anatomy quiz with an impressive 100%; Oikawa, who has claimed the spot for the previous fifteen consecutive quizzes, and who has spent countless tedious afternoons trying to drum into Matsukawa’s head the finer points of the musculoskeletal system, is reasonably scandalised.

‘Is it a new pelvic anatomy textbook? Have you inherited a set of secret senior’s notes?’ Oikawa asks him as they walk out of the lecture hall together, visibly cracking from the curiosity. ‘Online practice quizzes? Youtube-’

Matsukawa remains dutifully silent the entire trip home.)

 

 

**for you, a piece of my heart**

 

It should _technically_ have been a pretty straightforward confession, copy and pasted right out of a shoujo manga. It’s valentine’s day (check), they’re seated at the empty baseball field next to their lecture theatre (check) silhouetted dramatically against the setting sun (check), and Hanamaki’s brought heart-shaped cookies (check). The entire affair is so formulaic that it cannot be primed for anything but resounding success.

Which is why Matsukawa really, really shouldn’t be laughing like _that_.

‘Come on, it’s not that funny,’ Hanamaki says, sounding so affronted that Matsukawa can’t help but feel a huge surge of affection welling up in his chest.

‘You know, when people talk about heart shaped cookies I don’t think they’re referring to the actual, anatomical shape of the human heart,’ Matsukawa says, trying to play it cool, but the reality is that he’s smiling so hard it actually hurts. ‘And the inferior vena cava’s a little off to the left -’

‘The batter expanded and cracked in the oven!’ comes Hanamaki’s heated response. ‘Did you know how many times I had to stick the stupid vein back-’

‘Hanamaki, you huge nerd.’ And because this is a scene straight out of shoujo manga, because Matsukawa’s so disgustingly in love it is ridiculous, because this - this is simply the natural and inevitable progression of things, Matsukawa gives a little sigh of resignation (as if to say,  _yes, of course it would come down to this),_  leans forward, and presses his lips on Hanamaki’s.

 

 

**i know this to my very bones**

 

One day, when Matsukawa's over at Hanamaki's house, he notices a stash of brochures on the table, words printed in bold: **cheap apartment for rent! affordable prices for students!** When Matsukawa brings this up over dinner, Hanamaki just smiles, like he's been waiting for the question all along. 

'I've been meaning to ask you about them. I'd like to look through them with you,' Hanamaki tells him, and it's the same hopeful gaze from the first time he'd dropped the profiteroles on Matsukawa's lap and said 'see you tomorrow' three years ago, the same half-sun slice of smile. 'If you don't mind.'

Matsukawa pauses for a moment, and thinks about what this gesture means. Thinks about what this gesture can come to mean.

'Okay,' Matsukawa says, and leans in.

**Author's Note:**

> written for [matsuhana week day 4: no control](http://carafinn.tumblr.com/post/126005600862/on-the-anatomy-of-crushes) (i tried, you guys)


End file.
